


154 - The Ultimate Wedding Fic

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: You marry Van McCann. It is the greatest day. This is the greatest fic. Haha.





	154 - The Ultimate Wedding Fic

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collab with another Tumblr user. I wrote your perspective, and she wrote Van's. Check out the other half of the story here: https://you-andthebottlemen.tumblr.com/post/160383652178/25-a-collab-with-storiesaboutvan

You'd always been the type of person to stay calm when the rest of the room was in a panic. Even tempered and sure, you were reliable in a crisis and had an overwhelming soothing influence on people. There were many moments in the lead up to the wedding where you thought maybe it would be the one thing you'd be anxious about, but standing in front of the mirror doing final checks, you weren't. There were many factors that had ensured that, though.

Firstly, there was the outfit. It was hard to find the perfect dress when you were working around the perfect shoes. You'd spotted the golden shimmer sparkles of the Kate Spade sneakers in a shop front in London. Instead of laces, there were ribbons, and instead of wedding heels, there would be flats. You'd built the rest of the outfit, and probably the rest of the wedding's aesthetic, around the shoes. A dress free from lace was rare, but eventually you found one that was shorter at the front to allow the shoes to be the focus, and longer in the back for a little extra drama. The silk flowed down in long sleeves, but the dress was synched in at the waist for shape. The necklace plunged, and a thin gold chain that Van had given you when he proposed sat between your collarbones.

The only person that had seen you in the completed outfit before the actual wedding day was Larry. You and he shared lots of little things separate to your relationship with Van. You weren't just Larry’s best mate's girlfriend, fiancé, soon-to-be-wife, but his other best mate in your own right. As you did a twirl he laughed and nodded. "Van's gonna go mental when he sees you," he said. "Can I tell him I've seen it?" You nodded, and spent the rest of the day helping Larry send teasing messages about how pretty you looked, and how perfect the dress was. The shoes remained a surprise.

The second factor that ensured your calm was the moment when your makeup had turned out perfect. Gwen was a little unsure about the deep, dark burgundy lips, but Dani had assured you it was everything. Your eyes were shimmering gold, with even wings. Fakies would mean that for the first time your eyelashes would be more impressive than Van's. You told Larry to try to convince him to wear a little mascara though. Fingers crossed.

Van had said to you that he was worried about ruining the makeup in the ceremonial kiss. Of all the variables that he could devote time to being stressed about, the fact that your makeup was one of them was a small, good thing. Explaining to him the concept of setting spray, he was a little more at ease. You told him about matte lipstick a million times already. He’d probably still think about it though. He was determined to make the day perfect, and no detail was too small for him to overlook.

Lastly, your bridal party put you at ease. Your best friend was maid of honour. Gwen was in love with life like nobody else, and her excitement for the day infected everyone else in the room. Dani, Benji's girlfriend, was next. She was beautiful and kind and fun, and you fell in love as soon as you met her. Finally, Oliver, your friend since age five. He wore a suit that matched the burgundy bridesmaid dresses. It would be markedly different to Van's groomsmen, who were wearing navy. Collectively they were perfect people and they poured champagne and recounted all the embarrassing you/Van moments they could think of.

When there was nothing else to do, no hair strands out of place, no loose threads, you followed them out to the cars. As your friends happily took their seats, you wondered how Van was feeling. Did he drink a glass of champagne with the guys? He didn’t before a show, but this was different. Was he as calm as you? Who tied his tie for him, because you were sure his shaking hands wouldn’t have been able to do it. Did he like the flowers you’d asked Mary to pin to their suits? Was he as in love with you as you were with him?

Because, fuck, were you in love with him. 

All you wanted was to give him this, this wedding and all the significance it held. A day that marked the beginning of a family. A day that he’d been thinking about since he first watched his dad dance with his mum in their tiny bed and breakfast kitchen. Van was inexplicably perfect, and you still couldn’t fully comprehend how you were the person he’d chosen to be with, and he deserved the wedding of his fucking dreams.

 

…

 

An Autumn wedding; the park was glowing with gold and fading green. It was where you’d met Van, and watched him try to not talk about Lord of the Rings. When you said it first, that the huge looming trees seemed alive and wise, his face lit up. It was easy to decide that’s where you’d be married. Those trees had been growing for hundreds of years just to bear witness to your love.

It was a simple set up; white chairs either side of a leaf-littered makeshift aisle. The alter was one of your beloved trees. Van had drunkenly carved your initials and his into it years ago, and although you scolded him for hurting the tree, you’d loved the act. Whenever he was away on tour you’d visit the spot and run your fingers over the scars. They’d be no time for that though, everyone was already seated and waiting when you arrived.

Your father was ready as the cars arrived, and helped you out. His face was placid, unreadable, but the way he linked his arm with yours and the clamminess of his hand over your skin told you a lot. You’d had so many conversations with him about Van. Your mum had loved him instantly. Your dad though was harder to convince. Van was in a band. Van wore ripped jeans. Van smoked a pack a day. Slowly, surely, your dad saw all the other things. Van loved people harder and more honestly than anyone else on Earth. Van adored you with all his heart. Van treated you like a princess.

“Nervous?” your dad asked you.

“Not yet,”

“Good. He is. Looks like he’s going to throw up on the officiant. Probably will when he sees you. You look beautiful, my girl,” he said. You smiled and took a breath in. Maybe you got your calming qualities from your father.

You followed your friends in a line like imprinting ducklings. You focused on your hands holding the bouquet. When you heard the music, the nerves finally arrived. Shaking body. Hot skin. You were thankful that the weather was perfect; any hotter and you’d be sweating bullets.

As you watched your friends walk, you assessed the good choices you’d collectively made about their clothes. They were all in the same burgundy colour. Gwen’s long hair was kept loose, and it swung from side to side with a beautiful grace. She was glorious. Dani’s dress was strapless, and her tattoos were the most colourful thing about the wedding. She walked with a pep in her step and it reminded you why you loved her. Then, Oli. A bold suit that few could work like he could.

A voice in your head told you to stand up straighter and look up. You did, and your eyes went straight to Van. Holy mother of fuck.

To anybody else, except for maybe your father and Larry, he’d seem cool, calm, and collected. But, you knew him. His knotted fingers meant he was nervous. His weight was shifting from foot to foot. His bottom lip was sucked in. He was freaking out. But, fuck was he beautiful. The sunshine through the trees picked up all the different shades of brown in his hair. He was well slept, a rare thing for him. His suit was perfect, the navy making the blue of his eyes pop, even from a distance. Also, already visible was Bernie’s necklace hanging over his tie. It made you think of the one Van gave you, and one of your hands reached up to run a finger over it.

How did you get so, so fucking lucky?

His groomsmen were also all fucking grins. Larry’s chest was puffed with pride. Benji’s attention was focused on Dani. Both he and Bob had sunshine behind them, illuminating their fuzzy hair and turning them to halos. Bondy was wearing his goddamn hat, but at least it was washed. He had said he’d not wear it, and when your eyes met his he smirked. You shook your head in reply. What an absolute fuck. God, you loved them all so, so much.

You watched Van smile at each of your bridespeople as they passed him. You liked that he liked your friends. Van looked Oli up and down, and you could see he was impressed at how well Oli was pulling off a coloured suit. Did he notice all the other details too?

It was your turn then. Heads turned and you could have sworn a couple of people gasped out loud. Dramatic. You could feel Van’s gaze before you looked up at him. You hoped he liked the dress. You hope he’d notice the shoes. The flowing silk moved in the Autumn breeze, and as you watched them carry you to Van, the glitter on the shoes sparkled. The ribbons tied into perfect bows were holding.

You were halfway down the aisle when your eyes met Van’s. If love had a face, it would have been his. It was more prolific than the time he spaced out while playing Tyrants in Brazil. And that, well that was something. You smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. Make him breathe again, because he definitely stopped that as soon as he saw you. His lips were parted in some beautiful combination of shock and love and awe. Van couldn’t manage a smile, he was holding back tears, but it was alright. He was going to be your husband, and that was everything you’d ever need.

Glancing at Larry quickly, he gave you a look that said, ‘I told you he’d fucking die.’

Walking past the front row of people, you gave smiles to Mary and Bernie. Mary whispered, “They look good,” and made a motion with her hand over her heart that indicated she was talking about the flowers. You nodded and gave her the thumbs up. Bernie looked like he was about to cry in sync with Van, which he probably was. He’d always wanted a family, and he got it and that was enough. Now, he got to watch his son have it all too. They both loved you, and you knew that. From the get go they were warm and welcoming and joked about how Van was dead lucky to have you. You never understood those jokes, the ones from his friends too, about how you were out of his league. How did they not see that you were literally born for each other?

Your mum sat on the opposite side. She had a tear running down her face, and she was dabbing at it with a tissue. She was probably crying because she wasn’t the one marrying Van; she always had a crush on him. You watched your dad wink at her. Love had blossomed in the space and it was warming everyone. Biting back a smirk, you wondered how many babies would be created because of your wedding.

In your place, you hugged your dad and watched as he moved to Van. “You take care of her. Don’t mess this one up, or I’ll get ya,” he said. Part joke. Part threat. Van watched you laugh as he hugged your dad. You could see his eyes flick from detail to detail. The makeup was worth it, then. Your dad took his seat next to your mum.

The ceremony started, and it hurt you not to be able to hold more than Van’s hands. You wanted to collapse into him. Facing each other, you delivered your memorised vowels. Voice only a little bit shaky, and only a little quieter than you usually spoke, for once in your life you knew exactly what you wanted to say.

There were late nights on the couch with Van. Sitting at opposite ends, feet touching, he huffed and puffed about how he’d never been lost for words. He said there wasn’t enough of them in the English language to ever describe how much you meant. You threw a pillow, called him dramatic, and kept working on yours.

Then, reciting them, they hit the air with clarity and intent. Of all the people in the world that loved Van, of which there were literally thousands, possibly millions, none of them loved him like you did. None of them loved him for the reasons you did. He’d never heard anyone talk about him like you did, like your vowels did. You watched his face melt into disbelief and pure fucking love as you spoke. Then it was his turn.

“I’m going to be the best husband you could ever have and everything I ever do is going to be for you. I can’t wait to be with you forever, to have our own family and to grow old with you and have you spoon soup into my mouth because I can’t do it myself without spilling it.” He paused to collect himself, and you looked at each other as the rest of the world disappeared. “You’ll always be my priority and I will honestly love you forever. I’m so lucky to have found you and still can’t believe a woman like you could possibly love me too. You’re strong and beautiful, smart and caring; you fit me like a damn glove, you know? You changed my life for the better and I’m never gonna let you down.”

You were smiling, but at some point tears had formed in your eyes and they were threatening to ruin your makeup. It was obviously waterproof though. Larry handed Van your ring, and he gently put it on your hand. It would never, ever move again. Gwen handed you Van’s, and you put it on him, running your fingers over the veins in his hands that you’d always loved. Fingers threaded together, the words were uttered. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Surely there had never been a kiss in all of history that felt more right. Your lips collided and you could feel all the other kisses you’d ever shared. The combination of all the words of love, the acts of kindnesses, the late night cross-country phone calls, the compromising, the sex, the dreams of babies, the everything ever. That is what the kiss felt like and it was fucking overwhelming. Your friends and family cheered a spectacular sound. Van grinned into your mouth and when you broke apart you could see he’d cried too.

You looked around. People were buzzing. They were unable to contain their emotions; everyone was a mess of joy and love. Gwen whispered that the matte lipstick was the right choice. It had stayed in place, as hoped. You laughed and looked back at Van. At your husband.

He scooped you up in his arms and began to walk back down the aisle. You wrapped your arms around him like you had a thousand times before, and whispered, “We fucking did it!”

“And I’m going to fuckin’ do you tonight, Mrs McCann!” he replied with a wink. You laughed. Trust Van to be that beautifully sleazy at such a romantic point. But, the end, the title, it rang in your ears.

“Say that again,” you said, voice serious. Van carefully put you down, an arm reached out to let you spin under it so he could see your dress flow.

“Mrs McCann. I fucking love you.”

 

…

 

Had they actually mopped the floor? Wow. In all the years you’d spent bouncing off the walls of the old pub, you’d never seen it that clean. The golden fairy lights had been expertly hung as directed. A joint effort of the entire bridal party. There was a flashy photo booth set up in the corner, ordered in for the occasion. Other than that, it looked like its usual old bar self. The jukebox. The tables arranged randomly and without allocated placement. The small stage Catfish used to play on before anyone cared except for you. It was the perfect venue for your reception.

It was a space that was warm, inviting, and filled with memories. You could probably give people a tour of all the seedy corners and walls you’d made out with Van against. He could probably retell all the jokes made as he and his mates sat on those bar stools. Of all the homes you had, which you were lucky enough to have many, this was one of your favourites.

You sat down next to Van. He put one arm around the back of your chair and quickly moved to hold your hand. “This is perfect,” you said. You sat together, watching the room. All those people there for you. The bright lights coming from the photo booth caught your attention. Gwen and Bondy were in there and that could only spell trouble. After their turn, Dani and Benji climbed in. They waved, and you immediately stood to go to them. You pulled Van by the hand and he followed you happily.

“Girl. How do you feel?” she asked you, pulling you into a hug. Benji and Van were only a step away.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” you replied honestly.

“It’s perfect. It’s literally the best wedding I’ve ever been to. And it’s ‘cause you’re like, proper in love, you know? And you know each other and what you wanted today to be and it’s just… so, so, good, Y/N. God, he fuckin’ loves you,” she said. You glanced over at Van, still unable to be still.

In the photo booth, you and Dani kissed each other’s cheeks for the first photo. You called Benji and Van in for the second. Bodies were rearranged. You sat on Dani’s lap and Benji on Van’s. Faces smooshed together in friendship and love, there was no way the photo was going to actually look great. But, it would be a memory saved forever.

 

…

 

After the first course of food, there were speeches. Van’s leg was bouncing under the table. He had nothing to be afraid of; there wasn’t a person in the room that could say a bad thing about him, but nonetheless, his nerves were still there. You moved your chair closer and rested your head on his shoulder. Pulling his arm over to hold, you were happy.

Larry was first. He grinned his way through jokes and recounted memories. People learned about Van in school, in the band, and on tour. Everyone felt the tone shift at the moment Larry explained what it was like to watch his best friend fall in love properly for the first time. How it could have been annoying to hear him talk constantly about you, but he was too happy for them to do anything about it. As he spoke, Van laughed, and you could feel your cheeks go red at some of the more embarrassing stories Larry had. He finished with kindness.

“They’re two of the best people I’ve ever met and I love them dearly. I feel lucky to be an honorary member of their family. To Y/N and Van.” Everyone repeated it in a toast. Van kissed your forehead and you imagined the future. Larry was part of your family, and you were excited for that too.

Gwen gave a speech, as did your parents and Van’s. They’d surprised you by writing their speeches together. Bernie and your dad went first, then Mary and your mum. It was beautiful, and their unity made the room collective make an ‘awwwwwww’ sound.

You didn’t know what to do with all your feelings, so you started to eat again. Van watched you with a smile that told you he was totally at peace with the word.

 

…

 

“We’ve eaten, we’ve drunk, and we’ve heard some class speeches. And God knows we’ve taken a shit load of photos in that thing,” Bondy said from his place on stage. He was the right type of drunk, and people laughed along with him. “What we haven’t done yet is danced. So, clear the floor and welcome our favourite sickeningly in love couple for their first dance. Let’s all fuckin’ hope Van has more rhythm now than he does on stage.”

“Mate! Have you seen my hips?!” Van called back. Bondy had. You had. The entire world had seen Van’s hips.

On stage, Bondy stood next to Gwen, who was known to kill it at karaoke and hold a tune. Benji and Bob were in their usual places, smirking behind their instruments. You stood and followed Van out to the dance floor. In the centre, you wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you close by the waist. The familiar notes of Crazy Love began to play. Bondy’s voice was deep and the timbre of it sent people into a sleepy, love drunk lull. Gwen’s backing vocals were equally as dreamy. From stage, wrapped around each other, they sang to you.

 

I can hear her heartbeat from a thousand miles

Yeah heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

 

You’d not rehearsed a dance. It was a formality neither of you understood. Instead, you pressed your foreheads together and swayed in time. Van wriggled his hips and you giggled.

“I love you, Van,”

“I love you too. I’m never going to stop saying that, you know. Even though I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said it today already,” he replied.

“I can’t wait to start our lives and our family and everything, Van. Truly. I’m so excited,” you told him, grinning and stopping yourself from rambling by biting down your lip. Van was watching you carefully. He was noticing everything. There wasn’t a small movement you could make that he wouldn’t commit to memory.

“I’m dead excited too. Can’t even put words to it, love.”

If Van got to study your face so closely, so carefully, you did too. He was the sum of his parts, but fuck, were each of those parts beautiful in isolation too. Each freckle. Each eyelash. The way the rosiness of his cheeks bled into the pale. Cheekbones. Nose. Lips. Everything.

 

She's got a fine sense of humour when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

 

If people were still watching you dance, you’d not notice. It was just you and Van. He smirked.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re… so fucking incredible. And you’re my fucking husband! What the fuck?!”

He kissed the tip of your nose and replied, “Damn right I’m your husband, babe.” He kissed your lips, softly, carefully, purposefully. Each kiss meaning ‘I love you,’ and even though you knew that, Van started to whisper those words to you over and over and over as your head rested on his shoulder.

 

Yeah I need her in the daytime

And I need her in the night

Yeah and I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss and hug her kiss and hug her tight

 

There would be a million details of the day that you were bound to forget, no matter how hard you tried not to. The dance though, wouldn’t be one. It would stay etched in your mind. It would stay as vivid as the moment Van first talked about marriage.

“You remember a few years back when it was like, our third date or something, and you sat me down and just bluntly said you were gonna marry me one day? I thought you were crazy,” you said. You were watching your sparkly shoes move across the floor.

“Why’d you keep dating me then?” Van asked.

“Because I figured out quick that you were my type of crazy,” you replied with a kiss.

“And look where we are now,” Van said, looking around at the room. He started to sing in a whisper to you, voice only a split second behind Bondy’s as he went through the chorus again. Van twirled you and while you spun people clapped and cheered. It reminded you that you were indeed being watched. Van was grinning.

 

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yeah and it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it make me mellow down into my soul

 

Sometimes when you watched Van, you had no idea what was running through his mind. He thought a million things at once, and it was hard to predict what even one of those would be. But, that verse, those lyrics, your minds were running along one track. Van coming home from tour. Not having long before he’d jet set off again. Bittersweet.

You held Van’s face in your hands and kissed while the song finished. When you could tear yourselves apart, you looked at each other. How was he real?

Bondy invited everyone else to the dance floor, and the bass drum started at the same time of Benji and Gwen’s whistling. People knew the song and felt it in their souls. You hadn’t known they were going to play it though.

"This is like, one of my favourite songs!" you said.

"I know," Van smirked.

Every person in the room had a love story or a drunk story or a mayhem story that was set to Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. All that energy made the room fucking buzz. Gwen and Bondy’s chemistry as they sang to each other was organic and beautiful, and you would have loved to have paid more attention, but there was Van. He was dancing and singing to you, and in love with his life. He only let you go to dance with friends. Dani, Oli, your mum and Mary – who were honestly squad goals, and Larry. Oh! Larry! So awkward in his movements; he was your favourite to dance with. Between them, you’d return to Van for kisses and lovesick gazes.

"Home is whenever I'm with you, babe!" Van yelled, arms open. He took you by the waist and swung you off the ground. He had to hold you steady when you came to a stop. Dizzy and happy, you couldn’t support yourself. You giggled and the sparkle of Van’s necklace caught your eye. You leant into him and touched it. Still for only a moment, you patted it gently against his tie, then snapped back into dancing.

The bridge of the song, your favourite part, was coming. You watched Gwen and Bondy on stage, and they watched you and Van back.

“Y/N?” Bondy said.

“Van?” Gwen replied in a sing-song voice.

“Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?”

“I sure do‒you came jumping out after me,”

“Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, and you were bleeding all over the place, and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?”

“Yes, I do,” Gwen nodded.

“Well, there's something I never told you about that night,”

“What didn't you tell me?”

“Well, while you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you 'til just now!” Bondy sang.

“Oh my god!” you called. You laughed so hard your sides hurt. He’d done this. Van had made this happen. You pulled him by the front of his suit jacket into you, and he almost knocked you over with the force. You kissed him hard.

 

…

 

Quickly and beautifully, with all the planned activities finished, the night descended into chaotic fun. Anyone that could kind-of-sing (and many that really couldn’t) had a go, and a few new bands were formed on stage.

Someone asked Bondy and Lou who was the better dancer, and it started a dance-off that was both hysterically funny and very, very tragic to watch. When Bondy lost, Gwen was there to console him and you wondered if that was going to be an ongoing thing. At the very least, they’d probably sleep together. You shipped them and told Van. He nodded and laughed. “Well, if I can have you, guess Bond can have a princess like her?” he said. Your husband used ‘princess’ as a term of endearment and it made you love him more. If that was possible.

You had hired photographers but Bob still stalked the room doing his thing. He would take the best photo of the entire day. It was of you and Van, looking at each other like if you dared to move even an inch, the entire world would fucking combust.

Eventually, when you were drunk enough to not cry at the thought of leaving Van’s side, you left him dancing with Bondy and the guys.

You spent a long time in the photo booth with friends. There was a box of props, and your favourite were the Viking horns. You found Mary and your mum and dragged them over to it. You sat between them for a series of messy photos that were mostly just them being confused and laughing at you. After leaving them alone to take more photos, you went to the bar.

Bernie and your dad were drinking together; thick as thieves. As you approached them your dad held an arm out, which he put around you.

“What are you two up to?” you asked.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” you dad answered. You looked to Bernie for more, but he shrugged.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” he said instead. “My boy is a very, very lucky man.” You grinned at him and glanced back over at Van. He was mid-waltz with Bondy.

“And I’m lucky to have him. He’s... perfect,” you replied. Bernie nodded because he knew. He could empathise with your inability to fully explain all the things you felt about Van. After drinking with them for a couple of rounds, you missed Van. You kissed your father and father-in-law on the cheeks and ventured back over to where you last saw Van. Where’d he go?

Van was sitting at a table talking to people when you found him. Although his attention was partly on them, he was probably watching you the whole time you were apart.

“Are we ready to get out of here Mrs McCann?” he asked as you sat next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. Your eyes closed, and you smiled and nodded.

“On one hand, I never want to leave. I could live in this night for the rest of my life. On the other, I want you to myself. So yeah, let’s get out of here,” you replied. 

All that, all that was left was throwing the bouquet, caught by a happy Dani, and to be waved off as you got into a black hired car. You were grateful nobody had written across it, or tied cans. You sat in the back seat with Van, and the driver pulled away from the curb. You blew kisses to everyone through the window, then closed it as the city whizzed by. You were alone for the first time all day.

 

…

 

In the back of the car, you rested your hand on Van’s thigh, bit your lip and let your head drop back to lean on the seat. Van held your face and kissed you hard. It tasted of expensive champagne, and your finally flaking lipstick. Holding Van’s tie, you pulled him closer. As his hands ran over your skin, goosebumps formed, and you couldn’t hold back a small sound that was somewhere between moan and squeak.

“The things I’d do to you right now,” you whispered.

“Babe, don’t even start. I’m going crazy enough as it is,” Van replied. 

The music in the front got louder, and the window between the driver and back seat went up. The small kisses snowballed into complete making out. The backseat went Titanic, and the windows were fogged enough that you could have written your name on them if you’d had the time. Your focus was entirely on Van though.

You giggled as you kissed a trail down Van’s neck. His head went back, and you watched him bite hard on his lip. He was trying to stay quiet. A car horn somewhere caught your attention, and out the window you saw a sign for a motel coming up. Perfect.

“I can see a motel over there, Van. Let’s just pull in right now. I like, want you and need you and I’m gonna die,” you suggested in a purr that Van could not ignore. He tried anyway.

“But we’ll never get a flight to...god knows where,” he said. You’d not booked airfares or a honeymoon suite. Instead, you’d arrive at the airport and get on a plane going anywhere that sounded good. Van’s life had been so planned for years that spontaneity seemed like a good idea. Apparently unable to let that planning mindset go, he looked nervous at the suggestion of stopping. 

“Van. 'God knows where' can wait...”

“We’ll just wind up waiting hours in the morning though,” he replied, knowing more about airports than you. All the hours he’d spent in them probably added up to days.

“Yeah, but waiting for hours gives us time to go and make out in places we shouldn’t be making out in. And… Surely you don’t want to wait until we get to a hotel tomorrow to rip these off.”

You slowly slid the hem of your dress up so Van could see the lingerie you’d worn. All lace and softness and white and inviting. Van pupils dilated on sight.

“Fine. I won’t argue with my wife,” he said to you, and tapped on the window. It went down and the driver quickly looked over his shoulder with an apprehensive expression. He’d probably been imagining nakedness. Van spoke to him. “Just pull in at the motel, mate. Thanks.”

 

…

 

The woman at the reception rolled her eyes as she handed over the keys. Was she used to this? Through the motel room door, it was a race to see who could undress the other first. You fell backwards onto the bed; your wedding dress was crumpled on the floor, and for a moment you hesitated. Dry cleaning would get the crinkles out. You left it. Van finished ripping what clothes he had left on, off.

You giggled and squirmed as he kissed from your lips all the way down. How did you ever think you were going to make it to the airport, let alone all the way to a different country without this first? Van was beautiful even on his worst days. This was his best day. His very, very best day. And he loved you more than you could even begin to comprehend. That want was palpable and profound and was alive in the motel room with you. It manifested in kisses and touching and sex, like it kind of always had.

Later, much later, Van would fall asleep before you. His head would rest on your chest and rise and fall with your even breathing. Before following him into your own deep sleep you’d think about all the moments of the day, and all the moments before that. Every little thing that led up to Van asking you to marry him, and you saying yes, and the planning and the practice, and all of it. The giant sentient trees. The kisses over the merch table at early Catfish shows. The shared cigarettes. The late night phone calls. All of it. It all brought you to that moment in that hotel room, falling asleep with the spectacular love of your life.


End file.
